


Loose Tooth

by FrozenWings



Series: Untitled Young Cassandra Series [7]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Bullying, Cass didn't have many friends before Rapunzel, Gen, Group acceptance, Growing Up, Introspection, LITTLE CASS, Minor Injuries, Peer Pressure, Slice of Life, Teasing, Unresolved Issues, but not for lack of trying - Freeform, comeuppance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenWings/pseuds/FrozenWings
Summary: Cass hasfinallygotten her first loose tooth and can't wait to show it off to the other kids in the village. They won't be able to tease her about still being a little kid anymore!Right?
Relationships: Captain of Corona's Guard & Cassandra (Disney)
Series: Untitled Young Cassandra Series [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817698
Comments: 25
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written (mostly) in January 2020 and I have no idea what I was thinking.
> 
> I was on the fence about whether or not to post this story. I rather like it, but wasn't sure if it would be to anyone else's tastes. After looking it over again, I decided to go ahead and share it (but you probably figured that out by now). 
> 
> This story is set when Cass is eight. I hope you enjoy. Fair warning, though: per the tags, this story is...less fluffy than the others in this collection.

Cass skipped through the streets of Corona, humming a little tune to herself with a smug smile plastered on her face. Granted, she wasn’t usually the type of girl to skip or hum ditties, but today was special. She had made an important discovery ths morning and couldn’t wait to show it off to the other children in town. For this morning one of her teeth had _finally_ gotten loose! 

She had made her momentous discovery after biting into the apple she had plucked from the kitchens for breakfast, opting as always for something she could eat while wandering the barracks and stables rather than seated at a table listening to the adults disinteresting discourse. No sooner had the crisp, sweet juices flooded her mouth when she became keenly aware of an odd wiggling sensation in the front of her lower jaw. Instantly, she had dropped the fruit and rushed over to a weapons cart, using a freshly-polished halberd as a makeshift looking glass. Sure enough, one tooth jutted out and away from the otherwise orderly row of pearly whites, seeming like an errant soldier breaking formation. Tentatively, Cass raised a finger to her mouth and touched the tooth, instantly drawing her hand back when it shifted under her touch, the unfamiliar sensation both unsettling and exciting. 

At eight years old, Cass was well aware of the fact that her baby teeth should have started falling out years ago. As far as she knew, she was the only child in the village her age who _hadn’t_ lost at least one (heck, even a bunch of the younger ones had; it was downright embarassing last week when Mildred was running around showing off the gap in her face after losing her first, and she was FIVE!!!). 

_But now!_

HA!

Who was most definitely not a little girl anymore?!? She couldn’t wait to show her dad, Captain Williams (she knew he wasn't captain anymore, but calling him anything else felt weird), and, most of all, the village boys who delighted in teasing her for being ‘the town shrimp.’ Never mind that she joined the king’s own guards on their daily musters and drills and was the only kid she knew who was permitted to carry around _a real dagger_ (and quite a nice one, too); being short for her age seemed to always take precedence in their eyes. Here was definitive proof that she was, indeed, growing and wouldn’t be destined to live life as a midget.

However, much to Cass’s exasperation, she hadn’t been able to share her earth-shattering news with anyone yet. The minute she had flown into her dad's office, nearly bursting at the seams with excitement, was the same minute Carlos saw a particularly large, hairy spider, shrieked like a girl, and, arms windmilling frantically, fell into a rack containing two dozen weapons, all of which proceeded to clatter to the floor with a delightfully tremendous racket. Fortunately no one was hurt, save for a half-dozen halberds, badly dented heads hanging uselessly off their poles. 

Rather than take Carlos up on his hurried, slightly panicked offer to make a trip to Xavier's to let him know of their need for new weapons, her father had opted to go himself; he was caught up on paperwork, there wasn't anything else that demanded his attention that day, and he didn't want to see the message bungled (again). When he offered for Cass to come with him, she had heartily agreed; she loved going into the city with him, plus there was the added bonus of being able to show him her tooth on the way.

Her attempts to tell him about her discovery and newfound maturity en route to the blacksmith’s had been in vain, however. It seemed that at every corner and crossroad someone was wanting to speak with him about some security concern or other, ranging from shady-looking characters loitering outside of shop windows (nothing more patrols couldn't take care of) to the possibility of pickpockets in the large crowds expected for the upcoming Goodwill Festival (again, more patrols) to a bimberry pie that had disappeared from a windowsill (Cass really didn't think _that_ warranted her dad's attention; just make a new pie and set it inside to cool). She had stood by patiently, though, not interrupting the endlessly dry conversations or fidgeting, just like she had been taught (okay, maybe she fidgeted _a little_ ), thanking people politely when they called her a ‘pretty little thing’ and only rolling her eyes once, and not flinching or striking out when Frau Schmidt patted her head like she was some sort of mild-mannered puppy.

After what felt like forever, they _finally_ reached Xavier’s forge, though Cass nearly wished they hadn’t. The morning had started out warm and the temperature had steadily risen with the sun, causing waves of heat to waft up from the bricks paving the walkways and Cass’s dress to stick to her back and arms with sweat; such was summer in Corona. If the heat outside was oppressive, Xavier’s forge was suffocating thanks to the superheated fire his trade demanded be kept burning, regardless of the season. Her tooth was momentarily forgotten as she mentally reeled from the wave of hot air that seemed to slam against her with the full force of a charging stallion. It felt just like that time she stood too close to the oven when it was opened and had to shut her eyes to shield them from the hot breath of burning air being spewed from the opening, only hotter, stronger, and more intense. 

Despite her best attempts to not show her discomfort, something must have tipped off her father, for before he started to talk business with Xavier, he gave her leave to go ahead and explore so long as she ‘stayed out of trouble.’ That was all the impetus she needed, and with a quick 'thanks, Dad' and wave she darted back out into the still-hot-but-cooler-than-the-forge street. After taking in a few gulping breaths of the marginally cooler air, she headed off to the alleyway behind the largely-abandoned cooper's shop; ever since his daughter had married and started a family in Old Corona, he'd spent more and more time on the mainland, and rumor was he would soon move shop there. As it was, he was almost never found in his city abode, and the back alley, offering desirable adult-free privacy, had quickly become a favorite hangout of the village children. Cass just _knew_ there’d be someone there who’d be impressed by her tooth.

Sure enough, there was a small array of boys and girls, most about her age with a few somewhat older, milling about in the meager relief the shade of the surrounding buildings provided from the oppressive heat. Nothing particularly interesting seemed to be going on: a couple of girls were sitting on one of the many crates scattered about, playing at cat’s cradle, one boy off to the side was picking his nose (ew) and a small group of boys were playing at jacks, ringed by a handful of spectators whose interested ranged from gross to mild. Cass smiled to herself as she stepped into the alley; their day was about to get a lot more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I always hated having loose teeth as a kid; kinda ironic that I'd devote a five-chapter story to it.
> 
> For some reason I always envisioned Cass as being quite short when she was younger. I have no idea where this idea came from, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy taking full advantage of it.
> 
> Apologies for the short chapter (some of the later ones are longer, though).
> 
> Also apologies for the rest of this story; I am...not kind to poor Cass.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some spare time, so I went ahead and got Chapter 2 ready to go earlier than I originally intended. Going through these with a mind to post, I'm surprised at how...short they are compared to some of my newer pieces. Huh. I guess that stems from telling a relatively simple story.
> 
> Well, anyway, I hope you enjoy and don't mind the short length too much!

“Hey guys.” Cass said as she joined the group playing jacks. “Jacks?” she asked, trying to get a conversation started.

“Wow, Cassandra,” one boy, Marcus, said, rolling his eyes sarcastically. “Nothing gets past you. Now shut up; I’m trying to go for eight.”

Cass huffed and scowled in his direction, doubly annoyed at he obvious dig and being told to 'shut up,' but did as he said and stood silent, mentally counting - one, two, three - along with the rest of the group as the ball bounced and Marcus's right hand deftly scooped up the metal jacks. He made it to six before he fumbled the ball and sent it bouncing out of the ring before coming to rest against one of the walls flanking the alley.

“Aw, shoot, Cassandra; look what you made me do!” he groaned, throwing a furious glance in Cass’s direction.

“Me?!?” she asked, incredulous. “What did I do?”

“You showed up,” said another boy, Simon, who had just got up to retrieve the ball. “That’s the first time he missed, and the only thing that was different this time was that you were here.”

“That’s ridiculous!” she countered, crossing her arms in front of her defiantley. “My showing up had nothing to do with him missing. I can’t help it if he’s uncoordinated.” A little voice in the back of Cass’s head whispered that that was the wrong thing to say and likely did not constitute ‘staying out of trouble,’ but she’d be darned if she let these jerks blame her for something that wasn’t her fault.

“HA!” barked out Marcus, standing up so he towered over the much shorter Cass. “Uncoordinated, huh? If I’m so uncoordinated, could I do this?”

Before she could react, he reached out, grabbed a short black lock of wavy hair, and gave a tug sharp enough to cause tears to spring unbidden to Cass’s eyes. “OW! DON’T DO THAT!!” she yelled, swatting pitifully at Marcus’s arm as he raised it out of her reach.

“Why?” he leaned over her, smirking. “What are you gonna do about it? Cry?”

“Give it a rest, chump. The shrimp ain’t worth it.”

All heads turned towards the voice coming from the end of the alley. Even though the owner was silhouetted against the harsh summer sun, rendering his features invisible, everyone recognized it as belonging to Rupert, the undisputed leader of the local youth and king of the alleyway. He made his way over to the cluster of children slowly, taking his time to bask in the awe wrought by his dramatic enterance.

Rupert was eleven, the oldest of the group, and as tall for his age as Cass was short, towering over even Marcus with gangly arms and legs that always seemed too long for his shirt and trousers. Cass didn’t partiularly care for him; he was arrogant and conceited, always acting like he was better than everyone else simply because his father was the harbor master and perpetually ignoring the (more impressive) fact that hers was the captain of the royal guard. That didn’t stop her from wanting to gain his approval, though, for to be accepted by Rupert was to be accepted by all her peers, no questions asked.

Still, though, her desire for acceptance was not stronger than her sense of pride, as evidenced by her blurting out, “I’m not a shrimp!”

Reaching the knot of children milling around the now forgotten game of jacks, he eyed Cass with a considering gaze. “Really? Could’ve fooled me. I just came from the docks, and you seem to be about the same size as some of the minnows they were throwing back.” The boys and girls roared with laughter that only increased as Cass’s reddening face scrunched up in anger.

Rupert held up a hand for silence, waiting for the laughter to subside before speaking. “Okay, guys, as fun as it’d be sticking around and making fun of shorty here,” he glanced down at Cass again, noting with pleasure how she balled her hands into fists and clutched at the brown fabric of her skirt. “I’ve got a much better idea: my dad just got in a shipment of ice and he said _we_ could all come on over and have some chips! Whaddya say?!?”

The kids in the alley cheered, and Simon shouted, “Rupert, you are _the man!_ ,” all of which Rupert drank in like lemonade. “Then let’s go- wait, hold up!”

The mini stampede was halted mid-thunder as Rupert called for pause. His attention was directed at Cass, who fought the urge to squirm as she felt about a dozen pairs of curious, disdainful eyes abruptly trained on her. Rupert stalked over until he was standing less than a foot away, making the hairs on the back of her neck bristle at such an invasion of her personal space. “No shrimps allowed.”

“But you said everyone!” she protested angrily, staring at him through narrowed gaze.

“It’s for your own good, dearie,” he said with false sweetness, tone mimicking that of a placating parent. “A little thing like you might get mistaken for a fish that needs to be tossed back into the harbor.” More laughter from all but Cass, mind racing as it tried to think up a comeback while simultaneously quashing down the sense of panic brought on by the idea of falling into the harbor. Still laughing, Rupert turned to leave, the others following suit.

Suddenly, with a jolt, Cass remembered the ace she held up her sleeve. “Fine!” she shouted back, trying to ignore the feeling of excitement bubbling up in her chest. “You probably wouldn’t want to see my loose tooth anyway!”

At her pride-soaked statement, the pack of kids halted, turning to look back at her once again, though with a new light, their collective feeling of interest almost palpable in the thick humid air.

“Is that so?” Rupert asked, voice dripping intrigue. He sauntered back over as Cass nodded eagerly. “Well, we can’t leave without taking a look at that, can we guys?” he called back to the others over his shoulder, who proceeded to surround Cass in anticipation. Rupert met her gaze, a smile curving across his face.

If Cass wasn’t so eager for the group’s acceptance or pleased at being the center of (for once) positive attention from them, perhaps she would have noticed the devilish glint in Rupert’s granite eyes or the malignant tinge to his smile, looking all the world like the wily fox of fables leading the unsuspecting pullet to his den.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies for the length.
> 
> One of the things I enjoy about writing for a much-younger Cassandra is thinking about how she may have been different as a kid than as an adult (as I suspect many of us are/were). I've always imagined that younger Cass was a little more receptive to the idea of friendship with people her age than her adult self (prior to meeting Rapunzel, of course) and at least tried to, if not make friends, at least gain some level of acceptance/respect from other kids. I _may_ have spent a little too much time thinking about her childhood...
> 
> I also _may_ have had a little too much fun populating Corona with little jerks. Oops.
> 
> Thanks for reading and sticking with this admittedly small-scale story of not-so-epic proportions whose origins have been lost to time. Please think about leaving a kudos if you enjoyed; I wholeheartedly appreciate every one!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, after a busy week I’m back with Chapter 3! Thank you to everyone who’s been following along with this little tale; seeing your hits, comments, and kudos really make my day. 
> 
> Just a little warning with this chapter: there is some blood. Not much, but I felt it deserved a heads-up.
> 
> Enjoy!

The circle of children tightned around Cass as she opened her mouth, proudly displaying the waggling tooth. 

“ ‘ee?” she lisped, probing it with her tongue to demonstrate how it flapped back and forth, ignoring the somewhat nauseating, curious sensation that accompanied it. A few of the girls shrieked in slight disgust and Simon whistled admiringly before saying,“Yup, that’s loose, alright.” 

“So?” challenged Marcus, unimpressed and annoyed at their jaunt to the harbor being delayed.

“So it’s her first,” retorted Rupert, leaning in for a closer look himself. The tooth _was_ pretty loose, but still rooted in her gums enough that it likely wouldn’t fall out for a few days more. The idea that had been taking shape in his chicanerous mind solidified, and when he stood he shot a conspiratorial wink towards Marcus. “It’s almost proof enough that she isn’t destined to work in a circus sideshow as a midget.” 

“Almost?” Cass repeated, tone a mix of confusion and vexation. 

“Almost,” Rupert confirmed, nodding his head sagely and projecting an aura of wisdom wrought by an advanced age. “A loose tooth on its own means nothing; loose teeth just _happen_. The real proof of growing up,” - here he paused for dramatic effect, smiling mischeviously at his enraputred audience, - "is having the guts to pull it.”

There were several gasps from the group and Cass widened her eyes in shock. Pull it? Now? But she barely got to show it off! And wouldn’t that...hurt? It already kinda hurt to wiggle it; pulling it would likely be agony.

“Oh, yeah,” Marcus said in agreement like this was old information everyone knew. “I pulled my first as soon as I found it. What about you, Simon?”

One by one, every child in the group confirmed that they, too, had performed this rite of passage, with several girls declaring that they had had the deed done by a parent or brother. Cass fiddled with the cuffs on her sleeves as she listened, a sense of dread growing in the pit of her stomach. She did _not_ want to pull her tooth, not without first showing it to her dad and Captain Williams and maybe Frau Dagmar if she had a minute, and even if they made her pull it afterwards (as Susanna claimed her father had), she knew they’d at least _try_ and be gentle (not that she was afraid of a little pain; she just really didn’t like it). 

“Ya know,” Rupert was speaking again, pulling Cass out of her thoughts. “I’d go so far as to say that only cowards let their first loose tooth fall out on its own.” 

Cass snapped her gaze up to the older boy, eyes defiant. Oh, that cinched it; she was _definitely_ pulling the tooth. Right now. No _way_ was she a coward.

“Alright.” she said, voicing her resolve, keenly aware of the way her heart fluttered at the mix of excited gasps and shouts from the group. “Count me down.” Sweaty palms were wiped on her skirt before one trembling hand was raised to hover in the air above the offending tooth. 

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Rupert answered with a light shrug. “One...” 

Cass’s finger brushed the top of the tooth as she drew a shaky breath. 

“Two...” 

Every lung stilled as Cass gripped the tooth firmly between her thumb and index finger, feeling light-headed from nerves; she could practically feel the suspense hanging in the air, languishing in the thick heat, the brief moment seeming to stretch on for days. 

“Three!”

Cass yanked with all her might and the tooth came free with an soft *pop* sound as pain exploded in her mouth. Instantly she clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling an embarrassing whimper as the unmistakable coppery taste of blood flooded her tongue. Hazel eyes were squeezed shut as she willed the tears burning behind their lids to not fall, taking deep breaths through her nose as she tried to ignore the way her gum was throbbing in protest. Presently, the sound of cheering reached her ears and she felt the fisted hand still clutching the tooth hoisted into the air. 

“Hey, give it up for Cassandra!” shouted Rupert as Cass opened her eyes and beheld him holding her arm aloft like she was a celebrated sporting champion, grinning from ear to ear. A wobbly smile graced Cass’s face, showing off the new gap in her grin as the group cheered again, their shouts punctuated by a few whistles and claps. “Let’s see it!” shouted Marcus, and Cass uncurled her fingers to reveal the tooth, small and rectangular with a few lingering drops of blood on one end. No sooner had she had a chance to marvel at it curiously when a tanned hand swiped it off her palm faster than she could blink. 

“Hey!” she shouted accusingly at Rupert, who was now tossing the tooth up in the air and catching it as though it were a coin or skipping stone. She wiped a dribble of blood from her chin with her sleeve as she glared up at his disgusting smirking face. “That’s mine!” 

“Is it?” he asked, feigning innocence before tossing it over her head to Marcus, who caught it handily. She leaped up at Marcus, grabbing for his hand held just out of her reach as he laughed cruelly.

“Forget a shrimp, she’s like one of those dumb lap dogs - all bark and no - OWOWOW!” The lap dog had just kicked him in the shin, causing him to drop the tooth...which was promptly scooped up by Simon, who shouted “Keep away!”

One after the other, the children tossed Cass’s tooth among them, howling with laughter as she darted first to one peer and then the next in pursuit of the trophy, face growing redder by the minute, anger blottng out the soreness in her mouth. After the first few tosses she began resorting to blows, socking the current possessor in the gut or arm as she saw fit, though rather than having the desired effect this only seemed to make the children tease her harder, her small size and unpolihed technique rendering her efforts more of a joke than a threat. “Look out, Cassie’s mad!” they’d jeer before tossing the tooth to someone else. The girls got in on the ‘game’ too, shrieking with horror when they caught it before rapidly chucking it to someone else before Cass could tear into them, a pint-sized ball of concentrated fury. 

Finally it came back to Rupert, the instigator of it all. Cass stood, panting, as she glared at him. “Rupert, give it back!” she growled. "That's _mine!_

By now Cass was beyond livid and looked the part: her eyes were wild and every inch of her face was contorted with rage. Her usually disorderdly hair was more so than typical, blown this way and that and slicked with sweat, some of which was dripping off her bangs into her eyes, stinging almost as bad as the group’s teasing. As a sort of finishing touch a stripe of red streaked down from her mouth to her chin, Cass having long since given up on wiping the blood from her face. Rupert noted all of this, pleased at his grand success in getting such a rise out of Cass and, barking a quick laugh, remarked, “Yeah, so? Why should I care? Why should I even listen to you? You’re just a worthless nobody whose own parents couldn’t even be bothered to raise you!" He looked down his nose at Cass with a lackadaisical yet malevolent grin, the fox moving in for the kill on his cornered pullet. "It’s only a matter of time before your 'dad' does the same. Face it, shrimp: you’re nothing and no matter of loose teeth will ever change that.” 

Cass saw nothing but red. It wasn’t true! _It wasn’t!_ But something twisted deep in a dark corner of her mind and whispered: yes, it is. Why else would you have been abandoned? Why else would everyone be so willing to let you play with weapons or handle horses that most parents wouldn't dream of letting their kids near? Not because they trust your judgment, but because they don’t care what happens to you. 

They. 

Don’t.

Care.

You’re nothing more than a charity case who’ll just be dumped again when they tire of you. 

The thoughts grew from a whisper to a roar until they were practically screaming in her ear, drowning out the mocking laughs of the other children, jackdaws and magpies all. They grew louder and angrier, swirling and mixing with the laughs until they formed one hate-filled cyclone threatening to consume her. Finally she couldn’t take it any more and, with an angusihed cry, she hurtled towards Rupert, hands balleld into fists, ready to pummel the life out of him. 

She was almost upon him when, at the last possible second, he spun out of the way as Marcus, at a silent signal, stuck a foot into Cass’s path, causing her to trip and fall head-first towards a wooden shipping crate. 

***WHAM!***

Cass’s face cracked against the crate with such force that the wind was knocked out of her completely and stars burst behind her eyes, the sound echoing like a knell throughout the alley. A fresh stab of pain overtook her mouth as it was filled once again with copper. _Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry_ , she mentally repeated to herself as she fell to the ground, rocking back and forth slightly in a desperate attempt to maintain some compusure, both hands pressed tightly against her aching mouth. The children were laughing still, and she thought she heard Rupert saying something, but Cass no longer cared; her mouth hurt too much.

She presently became aware of a second sensation in her mouth besides the sickingly warm blood, something small and hard. Leaning forward, she removed her hands for a moment and spat into the dirt, an off-white pearl catching the light amidst the pool of blood and saliva. She groaned quietly and shut her eyes tight as she realized what it was: a second tooth, one that, judging by the pain and blood, wasn’t supposed to fall out quite yet.

It was as though a candle had been snuffed. The alley turned deathly quiet, the mocks and jeers dying a rapid death the second Cass spit a mess of blood and tooth on the ground. All were shocked into silence; even some of the more squeamish among them found themssleves dumb, unable to gag or squeal with disgust. As one, nearly a dozen pairs of eyes shifted from the mess on the ground to the girl it came from. Somehow, the group beame even quieter at the sight.

Cass’s dress was streaked with a mix of dirt and blood, blood that was streaming in a rivulet down her chin and dripping onto the frock from an ugly, gaping gash on her lower lip. 

Suddenly every child became keenly aware of what Cass was, or, more importantly, who her father was. Independently, every mind supplied horrifying visions of being stocked and pilloried or hauled off to the castle dungeons. Rupert was the palest and quetest of all, his eyes seeing himself being led to the gallows by the hard-faced Captain himself, eager to make his daughter’s chief tormentor pay.

Best to make himself scarce.

“Uh....last one to the harbor hasta lick a fish!” he stammered, voice quivering and all of its usual sureness and bravado gone. The kids needed no further incentive. As fast as their legs would carry them, the mob ran out of the alley as thought their lives depended on it, without so much as a backwards glance at Cass, still crumpled on the ground.

The smallest sense of relief blessed Cass just then. They were gone. 

Good. 

She hoped they never came back.

Now she could cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cass; just when you thought today was going to be your day, something like this happens.
> 
> And, no, Cap wouldn't really hang a kid, but Rupert doesn't need to know that ;)
> 
> Did you enjoy this chapter? I loved writing and editing it, but maybe I took things a little too far; I mean, she _is_ only eight...
> 
> Thanks so much for reading; only two more to go!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to get this up earlier, but life proved to be distracting. Anyway, here's Chapter 4! There's also a fairly lengthy 'behind-the-scenes'-type note in the end about how the last chapter came about, in case anyone's interested.

Cass took a shuddering breath, spitting another mouthful of blood into the dirt, which was starting to look pretty gross. The group was long gone, probably happily licking ice chips at the harbor (what she wouldn’t give for one to hold to her throbbing mouth...) and laughing about their triumph over her, leaving her alone in the dirt to have a quick cry ( _quick_ ; this whole mess started because she wanted to prove she wasn't a baby) and mentally kick herself for ever wanting their acceptance.

_Jerks,_ she thought, sullying the ground further with another mouthful (which number one was that?). _I hope Rupert gets his tongue stuck to an ice block and looks like an idiot, and Marcus trips over his big dumb feet and lands head-first in a bait bucket, and Simon-_

A crash sounded from the corner of the alley, causing Cass’s thoughts to freeze before she could wish some embarrassing harbor-themed fate to befall Simon. She started at the sound, an involuntary yelp escaping from her throat. The action, slight though it was, sent a fresh wave of pain erupting from her mouth and lip, and she moaned again as an alley cat leapt from behind the barrel it tipped over, regarded her disdainfully for a moment, visibly annoyed by her pathetic whimpering presence, and sauntered off towards the harbor (seriously, was everyone but her going there today?).

A fist half-heartedly slammed into the dust, its owner distantly noting that it smarted more than it should. What was she doing? A future guard wouldn’t sit here in the dirt crying and spooking at a stupid old alley cat, feeling sorry for themselves. They would _do_ something. The question was, what?

The pool of bloody saliva provided the needed inspiration. First things first, tend to her injuries. Cass took stock of how she was feeling: her mouth was still killing her, her lip was killing her worse, and both were still bleeding. A lot. Before today she hadn't thought it possible to bleed so much from knocking your face against something; now, she was genuinely wondering if she was going to bleed out and die in this dirty back alley. A bolt of panic flashed across her mind at the thought before her sensible side quashed it down. That was ridiculous! No one ever died from a split lip! Still, she wasn't too proud to admit the fact that she had no idea how to fix it on her own and needed help.

She glanced around for any potentially helpful people, knowing she wouldn’t find any and, frankly, not wanting to. It was bad enough she was in this mess to begin with; at the very least she could preserve some of her dignity and find the necessary help herself. Placing one hand against the crate that was partially to blame for her predicament (stupid crate!), Cass slowly eased herself up until she was standing on unsteady legs. Leaning against the wall of the building for support, she gave herself a moment to find her balance before fishing around in her pockets for a handkerchief and groaning when finding none. 

Dang it!

It was probably for times like these that Frau Dagmar said a lady always carried a handkerchief. 

No matter; she can improvise. 

Taking the dagger from her belt (too bad her dad had told her in no uncertain terms to not pull it on the other kids; that would’ve showed them), she sawed off a swath of cloth from the hem of her dress, reasoning that it was probably ruined anyway what with all the blood and dirt. Holding the scrap to her screaming lip, she swiped at red and swollen eyes with her free hand, prayed that she didn’t look as bad as she felt, and began the walk back to Xavier’s where she just knew she’d find her dad.

He wouldn't be too happy, but she couldn't imagine going to anyone else.

************************************

Maybe it was the pain, the heat, or both, but going back to the blacksmith’s seemed to take twice as long as it should. Then again, she usually ran through the streets rather than creeping along at a mincing pace, hugging the sides so as to appear inconspicuous. For once, Cass wished her hair was long like it used to be; it would have helped to hide her face from curious passers-by, glancing at her with puzzlement before resuming going about their day, eager to get back indoors and out of the burning sun. 

There was one close call: a couple of her father’s men appeared from around a corner, strolling casually as they swapped stories and let their vigilance slip as they lingered in front of a baker's window, and she had briefly panicked at the thought of them seeing her like this and escorting her back to her dad like a dog that had gotten loose and started and lost a fight (far more humiliating than going singly). Fortunately she saw them first and had time to duck into a mercifully cool, shaded alcove, standing stiff and breathless against the stone so they wouldn’t discover her. It was while she was hiding there, waiting for them to pass, that she glimpsed her face in a window opposite her hiding spot. 

This day just kept getting worse. 

The cat had been right to shun her: she looked pathetic.

Her entire face was red, what with her bloodied mouth (the scrap of cloth was only doing a fair job of concealing it), bloodshot eyes, and cheeks flushed from the heat and tears, the scarlet signs of someone who'd been crying scarring her skin and broadcasting her pitiable nature to the world.

A groan, small enough to not bother her lip, was made as Cass took in her tattletale reflection. It was bad enough to have to go crawling to her dad with a split lip and bleeding gum; now he'd know she'd been crying on top of everything. She wanted to be tough and strong like him, and he never cried. 

Hmph. So much for that. Maybe she should just stay here until dark; that way he wouldn't see what a mess she was when she finally went home. But then she'd get in trouble for being out too late...

The soldiers passed not long after, and Cass set out on her way once again, leaving the cool and privacy of the alcove for the insufferable heat and intrusive glances of the street. Ironically, though, these weren't the worst part of her solitary march. Neither was the troublesome thought of her dad seeing what a weak little girl she was (what if he thought she wasn’t good enough to keep training with his men?). Rather, it was the memory of Rupert’s words, sticking as closely to her as the shadow at her feet or the sweaty hair plastered to her neck. 

_You’re just a worthless nobody whose own parents couldn’t even be bothered to raise you. You're nothing!_

They played over and over again in her ears, set against the backdrop of jeering laughter and drowning out the ambient noise of the street and shops. They stuck in her mind and brushed under her skin like a nettle, stinging everywhere they touched and leaving a nagging, burning sensation in its wake. 

Her feet dragged on the cobbles as she walked, as though the recollection was weighing her down, puddling around her ankles and slowing her steps. She was used to Rupert’s cruel taunts and name-calling (this wasn't the first time, after all), and didn’t usually let it get to her, but this time it was different. His words had inadvertently touched a nerve, a tender one, and verbalized one of Cass's deepest fears, one she tried not to think about but was always lurking just on the edges of her thoughts like a fox slinking around a henhouse: that she truly was nothing, disposable, and would one day be cast aside once again should she fail to be worth keeping. 

After all, it had happened once, whispered the voice in her head; it was only a matter of time before it happened again. No matter how loud the rational part of her scolded and shouted and insisted that her dad cared about her and would never do such a thing and loved her, the other voice always answered back loud and clear: her birth parents had loved her once, and look how that turned out.

They had loved her, right? Hadn’t they?

 _Had_ they?

She couldn’t remember.

Cass furrowed her brow as she walked, trying to remember the man and/or woman who had left her at the side of the road when she was, by her own supposition and father’s account, a baby. She used to do that quite a bit, ever since that day in the stables when she first posed the question to her dad. He didn't seem to want to talk about it, so she didn't ask a second time, even though there was still so much she wanted to know, so many gaps in her memory she wanted to fill. She supposed she could have asked someone else, maybe Captain Williams, but it seemed like such a taboo topic, she just felt that doing so was...wrong, somehow. Trying to do so herself was the next best thing.

Eventually she had stopped, instead focusing on the ‘here and now’ as her dad taught her, and so far that had worked pretty well. Now, as she dug into her mind’s recesses, she remembered why she stopped in the first place: there was nothing there. All her earliest memories were at the castle, in the barracks and stables, with her dad, Captain Williams, Frau Dagmar, and any number of foot soldiers and privates, maids and grooms. It was as though her mind had been wiped clean of anything before then save for a sickening, gnawing ache in her heart that took hold whenever she searched her memory for her birth parents.

It hurt. 

There was enough hurt in her life right now without adding to it. 

She shoved the thoughts back into the shadows to slink with the fox and pressed the wool to her lip harder, wincing. Whether she remembered or not didn’t change anything in the present, including the hollow, empty feeling in her bosom wrought by Rupert’s words and her slow walk back to the forge, Corona’s streets blazing hot as the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all honesty, this probably my least favorite chapter in this fic; nothing much happens and its shorter than I would have liked. Still, I always enjoy writing Cass's inner voice, and this version is actually twice as long as the original, so I suppose I'm fairly happy with it.
> 
> When I first started writing this series of fics, one of my earliest decisions was to keep it canon-compliant and try to have Cass believably become the woman we met at the start of the show. However, that meant making sure the emotional baggage she carried around (or, at least, my interpretation of it) was intact. Likewise, per 'Islands Apart,' I wanted to make sure Cap made his share of mistakes in regards to raising Cass.
> 
> As I was writing this chapter back in January, I realized that I inadvertently tapped into something I didn't think should be fully resolved. However, I couldn't bring myself to write anything but a completely happy ending, even though I felt the story and characters didn't call for that (I felt too bad for Cass!). The ending I wrote was...nice, but it just didn't feel right. A few months later, I revisited this fic, tried again, and wrote a revised Chapter 5, one that's a little more angsty but that I felt fit the story much better (though I'm admittedly a little nervous about sharing it). I'll hopefully be quicker about getting that up, so stay tuned!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated; they never fail to brighten my day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written May 2020
> 
> Change of plans: no longer the final chapter. There is now a 'Bonus Bit' tacked on to the end (more about it in the end note). Anyway, here's Chapter 5, the undisputed longest one in this story (apparently between January and May I learned how to write longer chapters). Enjoy!

Finally, she reached the forge.

Cass entered slowly, feet dragging, obviously overheated; her ordeal had been exhausting and the forge, if anything, was hotter than it had been that morning when she had so eagerly escaped its confines. To her relief, her father was still there, bending over a table with Xavier, talking, backs to the street. They were clearly still busy, hammering out the details of a new batch of halberds and how to make them more Carlos-proof. She hesitated a moment, reluctant to interrupt and dreading the scolding she knew was inevitable. After all, her father had said to stay out of trouble, and here she was, short two teeth, bleeding like she walked off a battlefield, and with a ruined dress and messed-up face besides; even those idiots in the alley would know this fell into the ‘trouble’ category. Just the thought of what was to come knotted her stomach and squeezed her throat, and she swallowed hard, attempting to dislodge the lump that had formed there.

_Oh, well,_ she thought to herself, wincing at the way her lip pulsed as she readjusted her hold on the cloth. _May as well get this over with._.

Cass nervously approached the men, footfalls drowned out by the low tones of their conversation, the crackle of flames, and usual din from the street. She gave a quick tug on her father’s trousers, trying not to think about how that was exactly the kind of thing a little kid would do.

“Not now, Cassandra,” he answered distractedly, not taking his eyes off the detailed sketches of weapons laid out on the table before him.

Cass tried again, tugging harder and giving a little grunt, not wanting to speak and hurt her lip further. She felt bad about interrupting, she really did, and if it weren’t for the fact that her lip was still bleeding heavily and she was starting to feel kinda woozy, she would have waited. But, well, her lip *was* still bleeding heavily and she *was* starting to feel kinda woozy, so this seemed like it was one of those 'absolutely necessary' situations that he had said was an exception to politeness (plus he had said she should never be afraid to assert herself).

“Cassandra,” he began in an exasperated voice, finally furning around. “Can’t it wait-CASSANDRA!!!”

The next thing she knew she was scooped up into her father's arms and the two of them were escorted by Xavier to a small apartment at the back of the forge. She had tried and failed to choke out an explanation, but a cursory examination of her mouth told the men all they needed to know at the moment. Xavier produced from seemingly nowhere a cold, wet cloth for the Captain to hold to her lip and a teabag for her to apply to her mouth, saying, in his heavily accented voice, that nothing was better for stopping and soothing a bleeding gum. All this happened in a blur of voices and hands, burning pain and soothing coolness, and the odd feeling that there was something important going unsaid between the two men until her and her father were left alone in the room, Xavier leaving to tend to his fires and metals.

The apartment was quiet and peaceful, dimly lit by a single small window, the only sounds the muted hum of activity from the street outside and the muffled _*clang* *clang*_ of Xavier pounding away in the smithy. It was noticeably cooler here than in the forge, which was almost as much of a relif to Cass as the fact that her pain was _finally_ starting to ebb, thanks to Xavier’s remedies and her father’s attention. She probably could have held the cloth to her lip herself, but he had taken it and pressed it against the gaping cut without hesitation the second Xavier presented it. Every few minutes he would remove it, grumble to himself as he examined the wound to see if it stopped bleeding, then re-apply a fresh section of the cloth, pressing as firmly as he dared.

Apart from those grumbles her father was unusually silent (even for him), and when she dared to hazard a glance up at him, his face was hard and impassive, wearing the same stern expression he always wore when faced with a tiresome situation or person. She had seen this face many times, directed at hopeless recruits or fractious horses, and she felt her insides tie in a knot as she realized that, this time, it was directed at her.

_You're just a worthless nobody!_

_You're nothing!_

_A charity case who’ll just be dumped again when they tire of you._

_They. Don't. Care._

She shut her hazel eyes tight, putting forth a valiant effort to rein back the tears pushing against her eyelids as the punishing thoughts stormed through her head, praying, _begging,_ that she wouldn’t cry in front of her dad. He liked her to be tough, strong; so long as she was those things, there was no way he’d abandon her. After all, wasn’t he the most pleased with her when she was training with the other soldiers, somehow keeping up with men more than twice her size? Putting many of the newer ones to shame with how easily she could scale obstacles, smirking down at them from the top of the climbing wall while they panted for breath on the grass below?

And just a few weeks ago, when she tripped while doing sprints with the troops and managed to finish her lap even with a badly sprained ankle, not letting out so much as a whimper even though one was mewling in her throat, hadn’t he clapped her on the shoulder and said how the other men should follow her example before carrying her off to go find a medic, an awfully strange look in his eye that she still couldn’t decipher? No, she couldn’t cry in front of her father any more than she could in front of the village kids; it would take way more than a knock in the face to break her.

“Cassandra...”

The girl stiffened against the captain’s metal breastplate. There was no mistaking the warning in the word, the way he said her name. Cass braced herself, eyes still shut, for the long, disapproving lecture that would be starting any minute (really, she was surprised it had taken him this long), and she found that she was holding her breath in anticipation.

A pregnant silence, a heavy sigh, then: “You really should be more careful; this is your second accident this month.”

A wary eye cracked open and chanced a glance at the man still tending to her swollen lip. Where was the reprimand? The rebuke? The angry, admonishing tone of a 'not angry, but disappointed' father? Was it because...

Oh no.

Cassandra’s heart started to pound just as it had earlier, but with fear instead of anger. What if he had finally decided she was too much trouble? Not worth his while? Like it was finally time to dispose of her unwanted, useless self?

“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, her words slurring and halting as she tried to talk around the teabag and cloth, ignoring the way the metallic tang of blood mixed with the acrid herbal flavor of the tea leaves (how did Xavier drink this stuff?).

“I don't need an apology, Cassandra,” the Captain replied, his voice terse as he peered critically at her lip before rinsing out the cloth in a nearby bucket of water and holding it once again to the wound, not minding the steady dripping of the cold well water on her bodice (she gave a brief shiver at the sensation, rendered pleasing by the oppressive heat of the street and forge; it might actually be kind of nice to have the whole bucket dumped on her, now that she thought about it). “What I need is for this to stop happening. Don’t keep saying that you’re sorry only to wind up in the same situation a few weeks later. Actually start being more careful and think through your actions so you accidents like this don't happen in the first place and need apologizing for. I mean,” he paused, turning to look at her skeptically, eyebrows knitted close. “This was an accident, right?”

Was it?

Cass was quiet as she mentally replayed the humiliating, infuriating chain of events that led to her present situation. Rupert had deliberately goaded her into pulling her tooth, purposefully snatched it from her hand, and intentionally started a game of keep-away with it. It was no accident that she ran after it, throwing punches and kicks at whichever boy or girl currently held the treasured tooth. And Rupert and Marcus conspiring to trip her was ceertainly planned; maybe they hadn’t meant for her to split open her face and lose another tooth in the process, but they had intended for her to fall. Almost nothing that had happened that afternoon was an accident.

But when she answered her father she nodded her head slowly, mumbling, “Yes.” She refused to let him know how she was made into the object of jeers and pranks by the local boys and girls. This kind of thing didn’t happen to strong, tough girls, and she wanted, no, _needed_ her dad to see her as strong and tough. The less he knew about it, the better.

Her answer seemed to satisfy her dad, for he nodded and gave her a small smile, though the rest of him remained tense. For a heartbeat she thought he was going to say something else, but he simply readjusted his hold on her, letting her head rest against his broad shoulder as he continued to dab at her lip, bleeding anew from being aggravated by her attempts at speech. Normally she would have fought being fussed over, but in the wake of what went down in the alley she welcomed the gesture and the closeness of sitting on his lap; she was getting too old for this (after all, she was _eight_ ), but relished the opportunity to indulge in the old comfort. Lulled by the sound of his steady breaths, Cass started to close her eyes, slipping into a doze, ignoring the bitter taste of tea in her mouth and the way her arm was starting to fall asleep.

Her father must have noticed, because he shifted and said, “Here, let’s take a look at your mouth then you can lie down for a bit before we head back.”

Cass obliged, the injuries were found to have quit their scarlet protests, and she was settled on a large, sturdy pallet against the wall. She promptly rolled onto her stomach and practically melted into the rough sheets when she felt her father’s hand on her back, moving in firm, steady strokes up and down, over and over. She shuddered, both at his touch and the sense of relief that washed over her, sweeping away the contemptuous thoughts from earlier.

He was pleased with her.

He bought her story about her injuries being an accident (everyone was entitled to a few white lies now and then, right?) and she _would_ do better, be better, be _perfect_ so this wouldn’t happen again.

As for those jerks, Rupert and Simon and Marcus and everyone else, who needs them? She certainly didn’t! So long as she could keep her father’s favor (and she _would_ ), friends were unnecessary; a waste of time; a distraction to her training as a future guardian of Corona, someone her dad would be proud of. This was the last time she would try to win their acceptance. The captain continued rubbing her back, Cass loving it despite not being a touchy-feely person, and she felt her hold on consciousness rapidly slipping out of her grasp, loosened by the stress of the day and the ensing exhaustion. It was so relaxing, so calming, so...

The thought went unfinished as Cass dropped into sleep.

******************************

_Cassandra’s being bullied; I’m sure of it._

Xavier’s assertion echoed through Cap’s mind as his hand moved in steady strokes along Cass’s back, coaxing her to sleep just as it had many a night when she was younger (had it really only been four years since he found her?).

_She’s never playing with the other children, and I’ve seen the way they act around her. It would be wie to ask her about it._

Williams had expressed a similar sentiment, ending in a similar plea to talk to his daugther and try to find out if something was wrong. He hadn’t wanted to believe them; what father would? But then Cass had shown up in the forge after an afternoon spent running around town, covered in blood flowing freely from a gaping cut in her lip with two of her teeth brutally knocked out. Xavier had shot him a look clearly saying _I warned you_ , and Cap had been careful to avoid his gaze since.

At first he refused to believe the blacksmith was right, treating her bleeding lip and missing teeth as the aftermath of a careless accident, bullheadedly gripping that thin thread of reasoning and tugging for all he was worth. When the dust had settled and he had chastised Cassandra for her apparent heedlessness and haste, she did not correct him, and he had relaxed. It felt as though he had been validated, proven right where Xavier and Williams were wrong.

Now, though, staring at her as she lay in an exhausted sleep, he felt doubt creep into his mind and stomach, forming twisting, thorny vines of concern. The incident on the training field a few weeks ago notwithstanding, Cass was agile and light on her feet and didn’t usually trip. Furthermore, as he noticed with a frown, her thin, bony knuckles were slowly turning the tell-tale purple of a bruise, as though she’d been pummeling (or trying to pummel) something or someone.

Cap sighed heavily, wearily wiping a hand across his face and feeling at a complete loss, a sensation that he was becoming increasingly acquainted with as Cass continued to grow into a fiercely independent young lady; parenting was apparently not something that got easier with time . As much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to think that Xavier and Williams' uncanny observational abilities were spot-on, like usual (why was he always so slow to listen to them?).

But Cass herself had answered affirmatively to his question about being in an accident. Maybe she had fibbed? Agreed with him even though the truth was messier than he initially supposed? He _could_ ask her about it, try and convince her to open up and honestly tell him what had happened that afternoon.

The thought was entertained for all of ten seconds before Cap resolutely shook his head, dismissing it. That course of action would undoubtedly lead to an uncomfortable, emotionally-charged conversation, the sort that made his stomach writhe in an unsettling way and which, judging by the way Cass tended to make herself scarce the few times he'd attempted one, she found them to be just as enjoyable. No; best not to pry. Besides, Cass needed to learn how to fight her own battles, solve her own problems, survive in a world where her daddy wouldn’t always be around to swoop in and save her. She was tough and strong, and he had every confidence that she could handle this herself.

The slim body beneath his hand suddenly jerked, and he heard a tiny, unwilling whimper underneath the muted sounds of the street and forge. Still coated in slumber, Cassandra had shifted to pillow her head on her arms, brushing her no doubt incredibly painful lip in the process.

“Shh, you’re gonna be okay, sweetie,” he soothed, continuing to rub her back until her face was no longer scrunched in pain. Craning his neck, he peered critically at her lip, heart sinking as he once again noted the glowering, angry gash and how the skin around it was now clouded by a swirling purple storm. _That’s definitely going to need stitches,_ he thought not for the first time since he first glimpsed the wound. His heart ached uncomfortably at the thought; stitches to the face were especially painful, as he knew from experience (he supposed that was why he went soft on the lecture earlier).

Cap could have punched himself. Cassandra could very well have been spared that incoming pain if he had only listened to Xavier and Williams, not been so dang stubborn, and gotten involved sooner. He was her father, her hero, the man she idolized above all others, something she’d never say out loud but was without a doubt true; anyone who saw the way she looked up at him, with admiration and trust could tell. In her eyes he could do anything, and yet here he was, sitting by ignorantly while she got whooped by some bully.

Great.

Well, this wouldn’t happen again. This weekend, Cap resolved, he’d teach her to fight. She was already proving to be quite skilled with daggers and knives, steadily and determindly working her way up to swords she was still too small to lift, but the hand-to-hand combat 'skills' he'd seen her display on sparring dummies and the occasional unfortunate soul who rubbed her the wrong way deserved being called such. Even though she put all the strength she could muster into her punches, her rough technique and slim, short build rendered them largely ineffective, leaving her walking away with more bruises than her opponent (though to her credit the latest 'unfortunate soul' had limped away rubbing his shin, muttering about how a wilding child would be less of a handful).

That would change, though. She’d learn to defend herself with nothing more than her wits and bare hands. Whatever transpired to result in all this would never happen again.

He may not have known how to talk about feelings or fears with his daughter, but he knew how to handle physical confrontations. Cassandra would not be helpless nor find herself at the mercy of a foe.

Ever.

Here, he would not fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is perhaps my favorite chapter in this story. It was hard to give it the ending it deserved rather than the one that was easier to write, but I'm so glad I did.
> 
> This officially marks the end of Cass and Cap's story as I originally intended. As I was getting this ready to post, I felt that something was missing. An idea that I liked too much to not write took hold, thus the 'Bonus Bit' (I know it should be an 'Epilogue,' but since its the POV of a side character that moniker didn't feel quite right). If anyone's curious, go ahead and take a look.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has followed along! It really means a lot to me to see that my stories help to brighten people's days. I'll hopefully start posting another installment in this series soon (next week, if I can). Until next time!
> 
> Oh, one more thing: a note about the teabag. Years ago, I overheard my mother's old hairdresser relating a 'butcher dentist' story that ended with a heavily bleeding wound being 'stopped with a teabag' (the things you hear at salons...). Somehow, I remembered this while writing this chapter, hence its inclusion.


	6. Bonus Bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written yesterday on the fly.
> 
> Really quick (and short) 'Bonus Bit' to wrap up a loose end I left hanging. Happy reading!

A few days later, Rupert whistled as he walked through the streets of Corona, arms swinging to match his carefree tune. He tipped his shapeless hat to the knots of girls hovering in doorways and bunched on street corners, grinning as they blushed and twittered with pleasure that such a tall, handsome youth on the brink of manhood would take time to notice them. A group of younger lads hailed him from an alley, inviting him to join in their game of marbles, but he brushed them off politely, saying, with a Very Important Air, that he was on official harbor business. They properly 'oohed' and 'ahhed,' and he allowed himself a minute to bask in their awed expressions before continuing on his way.

 _Yup,_ he thought smugly. _I could get used to this._

"Hey, Rupert! Wait up!"

He slowed his pace just enough to allow Marcus to fall into step alongside him, skirting puddles from last night's rain lest he sully his best trousers (the only pair that reached to his ankles). "Can't talk, Marcus," he said, tipping his hat cordially to a fruit seller's daughter. "I'm on an errand."

Marcus snorted, unimpressed. "What, your Ma needs sugar?"

"Aw, can it, dolt!" Rupert cuffed Marcus behind the ear with his hat. "It's a _real_ errand. From my dad. Feast your eyes on _this!"_

He dangled a note, bearing an impressive wax seal, in front of the shorter boy, and Marcus's eyes grew wide. "Hey, this is the sort of seal used on letters to-"

"That's right! The King! And yours truly-" here he paused to give a dramatic bow "-is delivering it." 

"Whoa," Marcus breathed. "So you're actually going _in_ the palace?"

"You bet."

"That's uncharted territory! None of us kids ever even been in the gates. Well, excepting the shrimp."

Rupert huffed and leaned over to spit on a cobble. "Ba! She doesn't count! I'm going for a real reason; she's just there because of her dad. Well, no, wait," he paused and looked thoughtful. "I suppose she does do something useful there: entertain everyone with her trying to be a guard! You know, as a sort of jester!"

Marcus gave the expected guffaw and, bolstered, Rupert continued his jabs. "Or, hey, since she got her face messed up, maybe she can scare the rats out of the pantry!"

Harder laughs from both boys accompanied their walk through the streets. As first hours, then days, passed without the tormentors receiving any sort of reprimand or rebuke from the esteemed Captain, the collective fear of their actions in the alley angering him had vanished. Clearly, Rupert supposed, he shouldn't have been so worried in the first place: past experience had taught him that Cassandra, while many things, wasn't a tattletale (yet another quality that made her the perfect target), and it would apparently take more than a bloody lip to change that.

The laughter only stopped when they turned a corner and the palace gates came into view, tall and imposing, flanked by the famed stone archway. Rupert shouted up his business to the sentries then waved a cocky farewell to Marcus as he, and only he, was admitted (because, after all, _he_ was the important one), promising to return with a glorious tale of his audience with the king.

_Fifteen minutes later...._

Rupert scuffed his shoe along the pavers of the courtyard as he dragged himself back to the gates. What. A. Letdown. 

The guard who ushered him in had kept him moving along at a pace that was too fast for him to process the finery he was being led through, prodding him in the back with commands to "Don't dawdle" and "Keep it moving." The humiliation of being shoved along like some dumb animal wouldn't have been so bad if he'd actually gotten to meet the king. Instead, he had been presented to said king's top stooge, a wimpy-looking beanpole of a man with a big nose and hair tied in a stupid pigtail, who took his letter, sniffed a "Thank you," and disappeared down a hall and through a door without a second glance. The next thing he knew he was back in the courtyard with nothing to show for his time save for one incredibly dull story.

Well, no reason everyone else had to know how anticlimactic his afternoon was. 

Rupert promptly set to work crafting a more interesting version of the day's events as he meandered around the courtyard. Suddenly, a high, familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. 

"Like this?"

 _Cassandra_. 

Rupert's eyes instantly lit up. None of the kids (himself included) had seen her since that sweltering day in the alley. _Here_ was his chance to see or do something worth sharing, especially if her face was still a mess. 

Quietly, avoiding the glances of the guards, he slipped down a short service alley to reach a small training ground. Ducking behind a barrel, he quickly sought and found Cassandra, standing with her back to him alongside a sparring dummy. Judging by the way she was shaking her hand, she must have just tried to punch the thing. Rupert scoffed. _Good luck with that, shrimp_ , he thought, willing her to turn around so he could see her face. So preoccupied with this endeavor was that that he didn't notice the second person standing alongside the dummy until he spoke.

"More like this, sweetie."

The Captain's tall, broad-shouldered form was unmistakable as he planted his feet firmly in front of the dummy. He signaled for Cass to take a step back, then balled his hand into a fist and reared back, preparing to swing.

Any jeers Rupert may have been formulating based on sour Cassandra being anyone's 'sweetie' died an instant death as the Captain's gloved fist connected powerfully with the dummy, sending it crashing to the ground, Cassandra shouting with wild delight.

It was hard to tell what moved faster: the sand spilling out of the fresh rent in the dummy's 'face' or the color leeching out of Rupert's. 

He stumbled backward, knocking into a second barrel in the process, sending a hollow *thunk* sound echoing across the small yard. Instantly, all of the Captain and Cassandra's attention was turned in his direction. Unsheathing a dagger and uttering a quick "Wait here, Cassandra," the Captain started to stalk towards the barrels menacingly.

Never did anyone make such good time racing from the castle to the harbor, with no trace of the boy spying on the twosome remaining save for the Captain's perplexed look and the smirking grin curving his daughter's scarred lip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comeuppance. ;)
> 
> While I don't envision writing for this character's POV again, it was fun to do once. I was smiling while writing this and hope everyone enjoyed it too. Thanks for reading!


End file.
